


dreaming away now

by wearethewitches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alligators & Crocodiles, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Language, accio-shitpost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 03:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11027775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: accio-shitpost once said, "harry potter except hedwig is a crocodile" and I replied, "let's write this shit"





	1. Chapter 1

Harry is in a state of bewildered awe. The Wizarding World – his true home. Everything around him is fantastical and _magic_. The boy from Madam Malkin’s was even pretty cool, despite his arrogance – he clearly knew what he was talking about, with that house and Quidditch stuff. All Harry wants to do is go through his stuff, wave his magic wand and-

“‘arry!” Hagrid thumps him on the shoulder, pressing a rectangular cage covered by a cloth into his arm, “Look ‘ere what I got ya! Now, you’ll want to take special care ‘o her, but she should be plenty friendly, so long as you treat her right – an’ I even got you one o’ those translator tooths! All ye got to do is-”

“Hagrid, what is it?” Harry shuffles his paper parcels and the cage, which shuffles in his arms dangerously on its own. “It’s moving!”

“Course she’s moving! She’s alive, ain’t she? Not going to stick like stone all the time,” Hagrid shakes his head before reaching over, pulling up the cloth, revealing what looked like a baby crocodile – but it’s so very different to what Harry’s seen before on television. Instead of dark brown, her rough skin is a shiny blue-silver that reminds Harry of the sun shining on water and her reptilian eyes look at him with startling clarity, visibly shrinking and widening as the crocodile seems to peer at him.

Harry’s eyes are wide as he swallows nervously, staring at her. “Hagrid, are you sure I’m _allowed_ a crocodile at Hogwarts?”

“Pfft, you get kids coming to Hogwarts with rats an’ tarantulas an’ eagles instead o’ owls. I’ve not seen a croc since, oh…must o’ been a couple of decades,” Hagrid shakes his head, letting the cloth go, causing the crocodile to disappear from view. “Patil, I think ‘is name were. His twins are coming this year an’ all. Ye might even be in the same house! Ravenclaw, I think he were. Maybe not, then.”

However, Harry had picked up on another part of his words. “Decades, Hagrid? How old are you?” Hagrid’s beard twitches, the only thing to reveal the movement of his lips.

“Old enough that I’ve seen the world, or as much of it that I can, at least. The muggles have changed a lot, I’ll tell you that.”

“But when were you born?” Harry questions, eyes bright because just by spending such a short amount of time with Hagrid, he has figured out that Hagrid loves questions – not like the Dursley’s, who hate him asking anything. “Did you take part in world war two?”

“No. Only a kid, back then. Born nineteen thirty, I was.”

Harry’s eyes somehow widen even more. “Nineteen _thirty?_ But that means you’re _sixty-one._ ”

“An’ looking fine, if I do say so myself – ah an’ look who that is? Some coincidence,” Hagrid starts to lead Harry off to the left, diverting from their slow path to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry sees a set of wizards with skin the same tan colour as his own, though the one not braiding a young girl’s hair with his wand is a little paler. The wizards wear matching blue robes with two capes – one long one and one short one with dark buttons, the robes reminding Harry more of coats than anything. Certainly, their sleeves are far tighter than the loose, baggy robes the general populace seems to wear with their shiny bronze belts.

A girl beside them turns and Harry is briefly awed by how she matches the girl getting her braid done. They have the same coloured skin as the darker of the two wizards and their robes too are the same royal blue, but cut off just below the knees to show off identical black leather boots, tied all the way up past the ends of their robes.

“Patil!” Hagrid crows, the braider looking up briefly at his call. “We were just talking ‘bout you, weren’t we ‘arry?” Hagrid thumps Harry’s shoulder and morbidly, Harry wonders if his knees are okay after all the pressure being put on them every time Hagrid does that.

“Good day, Keeper Hagrid,” Patil says shortly, before finishing the braid with a quick wrist-flick, a tie appearing from nowhere to bind the end of it. “Padma, Parvati, meet the Keeper of the Keys of Hogwarts and its Groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid.”

In sync, the girls lift the sides of their robes, curtseying briefly. “Keeper Hagrid.”

Hagrid blinks at them for a moment before cracking a grin. “Just Hagrid, little ‘uns. Harry Potter,” Hagrid looks down at him and Harry frowns slightly at how he pronounces his name completely right, with no missing consonants. “Meet Mr Div Patil, his partner Girish Patil-Lagheri and their daughters, Padma and Parvati.”

“Uh,” Harry swallows, becoming all too aware of his many packages, before he nods his head politely, trying to copy what the twins had done earlier. “Mr Patil, Mr Patil-Lagheri, Padma, Parvati.”

“Girish and Div are acceptable stylings,” Girish says.

Harry swallows again. “O-Okay, Mr Girish.”

“Oh my,” the man says, voice light as he puts a hand to his ear lightly, a smile tugging at his face. Even with the amusement leaking from him, Harry tenses, feeling the familiar urge to bolt. _I messed up, I messed up_. “Miss Padma, am I hearing _formality_ from the young man in front of me?”

Padma – Harry assumes she’s Padma – smiles widely, eyes narrowing in amusement as her lips open to reveal white teeth. “ _Pita_ does not like formality, Potter. He asked you to call him his name.”

“Oh, uh…okay, Girish, uh…” Harry stalls slightly. _I have to be given permission to call them their first names, but, oh no…_ “Miss Padma.”

Parvati giggles and even Hagrid lets out a chuckle. “Do you not know _anything?_ ” she asks, laughter bubbling out of her throat. Harry immediately glares.

“Would people stop saying that? I _do_ know things, I don’t not know anything or nothing and I don’t know what Quidditch is, but I’m not a complete idiot,” Harry snaps it out, quickly and with a hot irritation burning in his lungs. Immediately though, at Parvati’s taken-aback expression, he regrets its. “Sorry. I- I didn’t mean to be mean,” he mumbles, tightening his grip on his packages.

Hagrid ruffles his hair lightly, but the wary expression informs Harry he’s still in some form of trouble. “‘S’nothing, Harry. I should o’ given ye a proper talk before bringing you t’ Diagon – business in Gringotts, though, jus’ had t’ be dealt with. ‘S’like yer a muggleborn, but withou’ the obscurity.”

“A muggleborn?” Div raises an eyebrow. “I heard that Lily Evans had a muggle sister, but I didn’t realise you were placed with her. Magical law states you must be placed with either a close magical relative or respectively, a squib relative, due to cultural differences. It is strange that they would consider your aunt a squib, seeing as she had no magical parent.”

Hagrid, then, gets visibly shifty. “Right, we’ve gotta be off – come on, ‘arry.” He starts to pull him away.

Harry manages to raise a hand to wave as the Patil’s blink and wave back hesitantly.

“Bye Potter,” Padma gets out.

“Call me Harry!” He calls back, getting a faint but audible, ‘ _Call us Parvati and Padma!_ ’

Once back at the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid pays for them to stay the night and Harry gets to sleep on a real bed – one with fluffy pillows and a thick mattress that didn’t dig into his spine. It makes him think of the Dursley’s and his cupboard, with its thin mattress more suitable for a cot than the floor.

 _Click_.

Harry flinches slightly at the loud noise, sitting up in bed with difficulty, only to hear another noise, this one unfamiliar and chilling to the bone. It makes his skin crawl and Harry brings his knees up to his chest as he hears a _thump_ and then a pitter-patter of claws on wood. Moonlight streams through the uncovered window and he sees a fuzzy shimmer of blue silver and stares at his blurry crocodile as it moves across the room, stopping just out of sight, by the bed. Harry hesitates, before leaning over to look at it.

 _“I am female,_ ” the crocodile snaps its jaws. “ _Treat me with respect, monkey._ ”

Harry’s eyes widen. “You can speak?”

“ _Yes. Now pick me up, monkey, so that I might guard you properly. Stupid monkeys with their stupid cages…you are a hatchling and my sacred charge. I will guard you, as my mother guarded her hatchling. Pick me up._ ”

Harry does as the crocodile says, wondering if he’s dreaming as his hands slip over her surprisingly moist scales. She’s heavier than he would have guessed and far less balanced. As he sets her down on the bed beside him with difficulty, she grumbles.

“ _I will teach you how to pick me up. That was uncomfortable. My bones will break and my organs will be crushed if you still do that when I am larger and more majestic._ ” The crocodile manoeuvres over the white covers, coming up to settle beside his pillow. “ _Lie down, monkey. Hatchlings need to sleep in times of darkness._ ”

Harry lies down obediently, but doesn’t shut his eyes. Having a crocodile right next to his head seems altogether a recipe for disaster – both for him and the crocodile.

“Will- will you be okay there? You won’t fall off, will you?”

The crocodile snaps her jaw again, “ _No, monkey, I will not fall. I will be your guardian and I will guard you in your times of sleep – which is now! Sleep, stupid monkey!_ ” She pads closer, nipping his wrist and Harry lets out a slight yelp, more surprised than hurt. “ _I tire of your stupidity. **Sleep**._ ”

Harry can feel a sudden draw to sleep, a tingling that reminds him of the energy in the air when Hagrid gave Dudley a tail running down his spine. Panic begins to envelope him right before he loses sense of reality and falls into slumber, a final thought running through his head with stark clarity.

_Hagrid should have just gotten me an owl._


	2. Chapter 2

The Hogwarts Express is bright red and Platform Nine and Three Quarters is a wall of sound. People are chattering away, kids running about around and inbetween loaded carts, full of trunks and cages. Owls hoot and there’s a trio of cats rushing after a rat, that finds its escape in the hands of a red-headed boy.

Harry, in his compartment with Hedwig – his crocodile, who had begrudgingly accepted the name after explaining that she was being named after Saint Hedwig, patron saint of orphans – looks out on them all with a sense of detachment. The parents saying goodbye to their children, the way some cry during their farewell…Harry had been driven to Kings Cross by his uncle, who’d sneered and laughed outright when Harry told him what platform he was going to.

“ _Platform what, now, boy?”_

_“Platform Nine and Three Quarters-”_

_“Don’t talk rubbish.”_

Harry had returned to Privet Drive on the second of July, laden with wrapped packages tucked inside a bulky trunk, Hedwig on his head. He had tried to make her hide in his pocket – she’s only the size of a pencil, not including her tail – but she had just ordered him to place her on his head. Harry had thought, for sure, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would kill her. He thought they’d grab her and throw her out into the garden, or the street.

They didn’t see her at all.

In some ways, Harry thinks it’s good that Hedwig is a magical crocodile. She doesn’t let herself be seen by mundanes, as she calls them, or even magicals sometimes. Hedwig has already ordered him to have her with him at all times, when he’s at Hogwarts and not knowing what she can do, Hagrid having not given him a leaflet or book describing what kind of magical crocodile Hedwig is, Harry tentatively agreed.

The compartment door opens and Harry looks to the uninvited guest, a shaking blonde boy he’d seen on the platform with an old, stern woman. Harry doesn’t blame him for shaking, if the boy had her for a guardian – she looked as scary as Uncle Vernon in her over-large eagle hat.

“H-h-hello. I-I-I’m Neville Longbottom,” the boy quakes, little pudgy chin quivering.

On his head, Hedwig snaps her jaws. “ _He has food in his hands._ ”

Harry looks to what he’s holding and immediately grimaces at the sight of the toad. “Why’ve you got a toad?”

“H-he’s Trevor. My…uncle g-g-got him for- for me,” Neville says, voice slow and stuttered. “D-do you…have a- have pets?”

“Just Hedwig,” Harry says, noting Neville’s lack of reaction – Hedwig was obviously staying invisible, even as she shuffles on his head. “Was that your grandmother on the platform? You can come in, if you like.”

At his permission, Neville’s shoulders visibly rise, a wobbly smile coming to his face. “Thank-you.” He comes inside, placing his toad on the seat beside Harry as he – in a surprising feat of strength – lifts his trunk up onto the rack above.

However, it’s nearly a moment of freedom for Trevor in his distraction. Harry sees it before it happens and lunges, grabbing the toad as it begins its leap towards the door. Neville jumps, frightened by Harry’s sudden movement.

“Trevor!” he calls in tired worry though, when he sees Harry’s clutching hands. He takes him from Harry, who wipes his hand on the seat where Neville had originally deposited Trevor, before Neville shuts the door. “There. Hope- hopefully, he won’t- won’t run off.”

“Yeah. We’ll keep an eye on him,” Harry nods, before looking out the window to the platform, briefly wondering if anyone else would join them. He looks back to Neville. “Are you a first year, too?”

“Yeah,” Neville whispers, nodding shyly as he sits down, cradling Trevor close to his chest before motioning to Harry shakily. “Are- are you-” Harry goes to reply _yes_ but Hedwig speaks.

“ _Be quiet, monkey, the yellow monkey is trying to speak. Let him finish._ ” Harry frowns lightly, looking up at his eyebrows. Hedwig interrupted Neville too.

But Neville didn’t seem to hear her, continuing, focused expression on his face. “-first year? Are you- you a first…year?”

“Yes, I am,” Harry nods, before pausing. “Neville? May I ask you a...a personal question?”

Neville swallows audibly, nodding.

“Have you got a stutter?”

The blonde gains a confused face. “A stut- stutter?”

“It’s a thing people have that makes their speaking slow and difficult. I stuttered sometimes when I was little, but Uncle Vernon made me stop. He didn’t like it. I’m not allowed to stutter.”

Neville swallows again, looking strangely fragile. “M-m-my gran do- doesn’t like h-how I…speak. She…shouts.”

“She shouldn’t shout at you,” Harry says firmly, frowning and sitting up. On his head, he feels Hedwig’s feet dig into his skin, little claws like forks.

“ _The yellow monkey should not be allowed to return to his monkey guardian. He must have a venerable guardian, like you, my stupid little monkey. May he be my secondary sacred charge, monkey?_ ”

Harry takes Hedwig form his head at that, Neville stiffening as Hedwig supposedly comes into view. Harry doesn’t quite care about him, though – they’ve only just met and Hedwig wants to leave him to take care of him.

“You’re mine, Hedwig. I don’t want you to be his secondary guardian.”

“Parsle- Parsletongue!” Neville sounds scared. Harry looks to him, frowning.

“What’s a Parsletongue?”

“You! You can- you can… _speak_ to it! You were- you were _hissing!_ ”

“Hissing?” Harry makes a face, perplexed. “I was speaking in English.”

Neville shakes his head, but doesn’t speak any more. Looking to Hedwig, Harry looks at his crocodile suspiciously.

“Hedwig, am I speaking English or…this Parsletongue?”

Hedwig clicks her teeth again. “ _You are speaking in the snake tongue. I am clever and can speak snake tongue, so I speak snake tongue to you. I can’t speak the human tongue, but as I said, I am clever and majestic._ ”

“You’re arrogant, that’s what you are,” Harry says before putting Hedwig back on his head, looking to Neville. “Sorry. Thanks. I didn’t know – she’s not that into elaboration unless asked, or it involves complimenting herself.”

“Oh,” Neville clutches Trevor hard enough that the toad lets out a noise. Immediately he looks to his toad, teary as he lets go completely, dropping him into his lap. “I-I’m sorry, Trevor!”

“He’ll be fine, just don’t do it again,” Harry advises, then hesitates. On his head, Hedwig is silent. Harry quickly feels bad about what he’d said. Hedwig only wanted to make sure Neville was okay. “Neville?”

“Yeah?” Neville wipes his eyes, sniffling.

“Hedwig wants to be your guardian.”

“Guardian?” The boy looks at Hedwig in a frightful confusion. “What- what does…she mean?”

“I’m her sacred charge, she says, so she has to look after me. She’s very protective. When you told us about your grandmother…I think she got angry, but she wants you to be her sacred charge too. Is that alright?”

“I can’t understand…her, not like you,” Neville says in a concentrated voice, quietly, “and I…have Trevor.”

“You can have Trevor too, she just wants to make sure you’re okay,” Harry says, before speaking to Hedwig, “Right, girl?”

“ _Yes, little monkey. Tell the blonde monkey he is mine and I will be his guardian. Those that try to hurt him will be on the receiving end of my wrath and I will bite them until they are deceased._ ”

Harry blanches. “Right. Great. I’ll…I’ll tell him that.” Harry looks to Neville, mindful that Hedwig can understand English, relaying her words. Neville likewise pales, but nods in thanks, giving his gratitude personally. Hedwig, pleased, starts a conversation, using Harry as her own personal translator, until the train compartment abruptly opens again, to admit-

“Padma!” Harry beams, interrupting himself in the middle of translating a sentence for Hedwig. “How are you?”

Padma smiles at Harry, “I’m alright. How was your summer?”

“Alright,” Harry repeats, before glancing at Neville. “Neville, meet my friend, Padma Patil. Padma, this is Neville Longbottom.”

“We’re acquainted,” Padma says, waving to Neville, who waves back with a small, pleasant face. “It’s good to see you, Neville. I see you’ve met Harry.”

“Y-y-yes,” Neville nods, more confident than Harry’s seen him act their entire introduction and conversation. “Th-though we aren’t…intro- introduced, pro- n-not properly.”

Padma makes a sound of understanding, before motioning to Harry. “Neville, meet my acquaintance, Harry Potter.”

Neville’s eyes widen, looking to Harry sharply. “R-r-really? You’re r-r-really, H-Harry Pot- Potter?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies awkwardly, before glancing at Padma. “Uh, Padma, would you like to say hello to Hedwig? She’s my crocodile.”

Padma opens her mouth to speak, but her gaze twists upwards, to where Hedwig still sits on his head. Her expression is priceless.

From the door, Parvati appears, giggling, making herself known. “You’d think it was her first time seeing one! Hi Neville, hi Harry.” Then, to Harry’s surprise, she makes a deep grumbling noise that causes Hedwig to shift on her head, making a noise in reply that Harry recognised from all the times she’d grumbled at him. Padma then snaps out of her daze, making _the exact same noise_.

“What are you doing?” Harry questions in bewildered fascination. “Can you speak to her?”

“Of course!” Parvati says. “Can’t you? Oh, _pita_ got us all translation teeth when we were small so we could speak with Raja. Did Hagrid not get you one?”

“Uh…” Harry thinks back, “Yes? I don’t know what it is though, or where.”

“Hmm,” Padma frowns, before speaking to Hedwig again, when Harry notices Trevor about to jump for freedom again. Diving, he presses a hand on top of the toad right before he jumps, Neville tightening his loose grip as Parvati shrieks in surprise. As Hedwig replies to Padma, her twin puts a hand to her chest.

“What are you doing?”

“Trevor likes to run off,” Harry answers, before Parvati’s attention is taken by another girl in the corridor, out of sight.

“I’m just coming, Lav,” she says, before looking to Padma, “I’m going now. Are you going to track down Raggington?”

Padma glares at her sister. “Her name is _Morag_ and she’s asked you not to call her that! Go and sit with Lavender, I’ll find you later.” Parvati rolls her eyes before leaving without a goodbye. Padma comes in with her trunk, shutting the compartment door. “Ignore her. We don’t have the same friends. Hedwig says that the translator teeth are in her cage and that Hagrid bought more than one in case she wanted to speak with other people.”

“Oh!” Harry shoots up, remembering the little box he’d found inside it when inspecting his wizarding belongings. Turning and reaching up to the rack above his head, he grabs Hedwig’s rectangular cage, bringing it down and opening it up, taking out the box with the weird, circular dots inside. “Are these them?”

“Yes. Just put it here,” Padma opens her mouth and points, showing the odd sight of a pale pink circle on her otherwise normal-coloured tongue. Harry eyes the circles doubtfully before taking one out and pressing it to his tongue. It’s hard as plastic, but upon pressing it to his tongue, he doesn’t feel the weight anymore. Nothing else happens, but when he tries to find the dot to pick it up, it’s gone. Eyes going wide, he looks to Padma.

“What happened to it?”

“It’s sunk in,” Padma smiles slightly. “Just directing your words at Hedwig will cause an automatic switch. It’ll sound like English to you – or whatever your first language is, sorry.”

“I only speak English and a little German; and snake,” he adds on at the end, glancing at Neville before offering one of the circles. “Here. So you can speak to Hedwig too.” Neville looks like Harry’s offered him the world as he takes the dot.

“Thank-you,” he gets out, sounding a little choked as he presses the circle to his tongue. Harry can see it happen this time and he watches in fascination as the circle sinks into his tongue, turning it a pale pink similar to Padma’s. Harry supposes he must have one too now.

Outside, the train whistle blows.


End file.
